Friday, April 4, 2014

F3 The Battle of Tangari Pass

The Rearing
Stallion Inn had everything he looked for, a well-painted sign, the smell of
good food, and a crowd loud enough to be heard from across the street. The
weather helped, too, as most people would rather put a pint of ale in them than
be out in the rain. Me, too. Falaren
hoisted his pack a little higher on his back, and made sure his cloak covered
his satchel and case, protecting them from the moisture.

He walked
into the inn and quickly negotiated with the innkeeper. He couldn’t spend coin
here, he had to earn it. Falaren’s prospects dimmed upon seeing not just a pair
of dancing girls, but a man with a flute who accompanied them.

“I’ve
already got entertainment,” Horil Luthain said as he filled a stein from the
ale tap.

“I’m
better,” Falaren said confidently.

Horil
looked skeptical, but gave him a try. “You get what the crowd tosses to you,
but you still share the stage with them,” he pointed to the flute player and
dancers.”

Falaren
smiled and took to the small platform, stowing his belongings in the corner,
then pulling out his fiddle case. He had a flute as well, but there was no
reason to pull it out and compete. Falaren plucked the strings, tuning them by
ear even in the din of the common room, and prepared his bow. He smiled at the
flute player, and nodded to the man to pick the next song.

Falaren
spent five songs playing the typical tavern favorites, the funny, even bawdy
tunes that got the crowd jeering and singing along. Falaren stomped along to
the tunes while he played, and walked around not just the platform, but the
entire common room, dancing among the patrons. This earned him some coin, but
he did it for another reason, feeling out the acoustics of the room.

After that the flute player and dancers wanted a
rest, so Falaren chose a song to play. He began, and many of the patrons in
armor and weapons recognized The Battle
of Tangari Pass by the first notes. Falaren didn’t attempt to sing the
words, he wanted to focus on the playing, the music, but the patrons began to
sing along. When Falaren got to the part
where King Nyamedes led the charge, he began to use his gifts. The fiddle, the
entire fiddle, vibrated in his hands with sounds it shouldn’t have been capable
of making. His fingers flew on the strings both pressing and plucking to get
all of the notes he wanted. He moved about the room to make the notes resonate
the proper way. His instrument gave its all, and more as Falaren turned it into
the heart of an even bigger instrument. At the beginning of the second verse he
stepped into the acoustic center of the room; the timbers of the common room
began to resonate. No longer did the patrons listen to the music, they were
part of the music.

No one
sang. No one moved. The entire room fixated on him to the exclusion of
everything else. Food, drinks, games, and carnal pleasure carried out in the
corners, went unattended as they listened to Falaren play. The music recalled
the entire battle, somehow giving everyone a sense of being there. There was no
illusion magic or other enchantment involved. People could not see or hear the
battle itself, but the music still evoked those feelings.

Falaren’s
fingertips began to ache with the strain, and he felt himself draining into the
experience. The catgut strings began to fray on the fiddle, and the horsehair
in the bow broke in several places. Falaren could feel the joints of the
instrument struggled to hold together under the pressure of the music, but he
kept playing.

When he
finished the last verse, Falaren was soaked with sweat. He managed a bow, but
he couldn’t put any flourish into it. For several heartbeats, the room
continued in silence as the timbers settled. Then, one warrior got to his feet
and let out a great cheer, tossing a bag of coins to Falaren’s feet. The
strings came loose, spilling silver coins out. This was the first as more
followed. Not all gave purses, but plenty of coins rained down, mostly copper,
but quite a bit silver, and even a few pieces of gold.

I’ll need them to repair my fiddle.

The
excitement over the song translated into a renewed fervor in the room itself.
They ordered more drinks, more food, more of everything. Many called for
another song, and Falaren smiled, settling into a common room favorite with the
flute player and dancers again as the inn sang along.